Page 9 of The Summer We Started Over

“Oh, the navy blue suitcases in cart forty-seven. There. I put ribbons on the handles so I could spot them.”

Jeff shouldered his way to the carts and lifted off her two roller bags. “Follow me,” he told Eddie.

She nodded. She followed him.

He looked amazing from the back.

As he hefted her suitcases into his truck, he said, “You look good.”

Her heart pounded. “You, too.” Was he going to kiss her, right out on the parking lot of the steamship terminal, with all sorts of people coming and going?

Wasshegoing to kiss him?

“Thanks.” Jeff opened the passenger door of his Dodge Ram pickup truck and held out his hand to help her up. Her skirt rose as she stepped up into the truck, and she hoped he noticed.

Jeff came around, got in, and started the truck. “Going home?”

“Yes, home. How are you?”

“I’m great. My guys and I are building houses as fast as we can hammer. Making big money and building big muscles.” With a grin, he flexed his arm.

“Impressive.”

They buckled into their seats. Jeff slowly wove his way into the traffic.

“So. You’re a city girl now.” He kept his eyes steadily on the road.

“I am. But I do miss Nantucket.” Eddie couldn’t think straight. The attraction between them was as intense as it had been two years ago. She was still crazily in love with Jeff.

“You haven’t come home very often.”

They were almost to her house. Trying to be flippant, she said, “You noticed.”

Jeff jerked the steering wheel to the right, pulled over to the curb, and put the truck in park.

Turning to face her, Jeff said, “Eddie, did you think I wouldn’tnotice? I love you. I didn’t say that lightly. I meant what I said. I’m never going to stop loving you.”

She ducked her head, hiding the sudden tears in her eyes. “I love you, too, Jeff. Just as much. But I told you why I can’t marry you.”

“Maybe you need to see a counselor. A therapist.”

Eddie put her hands to her face. She took a deep breath. “Jeff. Right now I need to go home.”

“Got it.” Jeff put the truck back in gear and drove.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. Jeff turned right and right again, and there they were, at the long, crushed-shell driveway to her family’s home.

The house was a traditional farmhouse, white clapboard, a front porch with two rocking chairs, four first-floor windows, four second-floor windows, one half-moon window on the top floor. A wooden fence began behind the house, starting at the barn and running off into the distance. Yellow daffodils and pink tulips filled the gardens next to the house, and fruit trees were flashing their flowers.

“Looks like a greeting card,” Jeff remarked.

Eddie nodded. “It really does.” Emotion surged over her, almost taking her breath away. How could she have left?

Their dog, Duke, raced up to the truck, barking, wagging his tail, jumping with joy.

Eddie stepped down from the truck. Jeff carried her suitcases to the porch, and she followed him.

“Thanks for the ride.” She paused. “Could we, I don’t know, get together for coffee sometime?”

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